


Ice and Fire

by SourWolf



Series: Lessons Learned [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourWolf/pseuds/SourWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia swings by the Stilinski home so she doesn't lose the bet. Derek and Stiles go to the New Year's Party. Jackson gets drunk. Stiles gets cold and Derek has to warm him up. Then things happen because Scott and Allison still won't get each off each other for five minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I think I went a little crazy with this one. I hope it wasn't too overboard. I wanted Stiles' actions to be awkward and goofy and I really hope what I did wasn't just plain weird in the worst way.

The sheriff stared at me with a confused look on his face. He was pretty handsome for an older man, but not as attractive as Mr. Argent. He looked completely lost as to why a pretty girl would show up on his doorstep with her arms full from her most recent shopping trip.

Surely Stiles Stilinski (I shudder to think who possibly thought that was a good name) did not think that I was going to allow him to come to this party dressed like Urban Outfitters and American Eagle got into a train wreck and he was the only unfortunate survivor. I did have money on this, after all.

The pool was up to five hundred dollars, Jackson, Allison, Danny, myself, and begrudgingly Scott had all put in one hundred each. Jackson, Allison, and I were betting that they’d be a couple while Danny and Scott both had doubts. That left us with a smaller payday if we won, but that was okay. This time it was a humanitarian effort. With the money I put into the clothes for Stiles, victory didn’t even cover the expenses anymore. But such was the cost of playing Cupid for the only boy that cared about me as a person. Stupid Jackson, making me fall in love with you and break that poor, sweet boy’s heart. That, and no one proved Lydia Martin wrong.

I smiled as Stiles bounded down the stairs, coming to a complete stop when he caught sight of me.

“Da--- Lydia, hey, fancy seeing you here.” He said, putting on an adorably silly grin. “So… what brings you over here exactly? I figured you’d be off getting even more beautiful before the party.”

I gave Stiles a spin, and the way he lit up made my smile come more naturally than it normally did. “I think I have that part down. Don’t you?” Stiles nodded eagerly and I let myself in to push the bags into his arms. “I came to make sure you looked absolutely dashing tonight. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all. You never know who might end up falling in love with you. Or showing that they already do.”

I started up the stairs, my heels clicking with determination while Stiles’ socked feet followed with muted thumps behind me.

“Son. I’ll be leaving soon. You want me to come up and say goodbye before I go or should I let you two get ready?” He asked with raised eyebrows.

I smiled and answered for Stiles. “Please, Sheriff, come up. A second opinion on my work is always appreciated.”

Stiles’ father nodded and when he got into Stiles’ room, I turned a scrutinizing gaze on the hyperactive but well-meaning teenager. “Please tell me that you weren’t planning on wearing that to the party?”

Stiles let out a squeak and floundered as he looked down at himself.

I sighed and shook my head before pulling Stiles’ gaze back onto me and smiling. “Well, thank goodness you have a friend like me.”

I started digging the clothes I’d bought out of the bags, looking over them thoughtfully. “I bought you a suit, but that would be way too formal for this party. I just had a feeling you didn’t own one that looked like it wasn’t fished out of thrift store trash bin.”

“Hey…” Stiles complained, looking down at himself again. “I think I do a good job of dressing myself.”

“Of course you do, Sweetie, but this is a party. You have to show off how handsome you really are. You can’t wait for people like me to see your potential.” I said, and sure enough, he was willing to do whatever I asked. Boys. So easy to turn to putty in my capable hands.

“I’m thinking this.” I said thoughtfully, staring down at my selection.

“But that’s just gray pants and a blue shirt. You made it sound like I needed a whole make over or something.” Stiles said, looking down at the outfit over my shoulder.

I turned a smile to him and shook my head. “Trust me. Sometimes understated is the best way to go. You always wear jackets and multiple layers. This is going to show off what you have, not make it look like you have something you don’t.”

I pushed the outfit into his hands and shooed him into the bathroom. When he emerged, I smiled. I’ll admit I had my doubts, but I should have known that I couldn’t possibly have chosen wrong.

The pants brought the eyes to the shirt and the shirt worked wonders. The raglan sleeves showed off his strong shoulders perfectly, the three-quarter length accenting masculine forearms and hands. He looked at my curiously and I walked to him.

“Almost perfect.” I said, unfastening the top few buttons to open the collar enough to show the curve of his collarbone.

“There. Now you look positively delicious. I just know someone’s going to sink their teeth into you.” I said knowingly. Stiles wouldn’t catch on to my intention. He wouldn’t self-incriminate by saying it out loud if Derek was the first thing that came to mind. “Make sure you wear appropriate shoes. I don’t want all my work to go waste because you wear something horrible. You know what? Let me see your shoes. I’ll pick them out.”

It was a pretty painless process. Stiles was so easy to manipulate. It was almost sad, really. As passive as he was, would this tiny adjust Even be enough to influence the outcome? Now, Lydia, are you thinking? The goal is tiny pushes. Butterfly effect, if you will. Tiny changes for drastic results.

Besides, I wasn’t trying to get Stiles to do anything. I was just trying to give Derek the little push he’d need to realize that there were better things than being alone in a big, burned house, like adorable albeit awkward teenage boys that were obviously willing.

After a goodbye that was a little awkward to sit through between Stiles and his father, I said goodbye with a wave that I knew came off as bored from my seat on Stiles’ bed. When we were alone, Stiles started asking me questioned, but I was able to deflect them easily. Stiles was definitely smarter than most people, so I had to make sure I didn’t give any clues about what I was actually planning and instead started showing how to dance without looking like an eighty-year-old with epilepsy.

We were dancing when a cool breeze suddenly swept into the room. I froze at the dark shadow whose eyes burned so much like the man that put me in the hospital. The difference I could see in them was probably the main thing that kept my fear down to a gasp of surprise rather than a scream. While the man, apparently Derek’s uncle, had eyes filled only with an animal rage and hatred, Derek’s were undeniably protective, maybe even possessive. He was an alpha making sure that an outsider wasn’t a threat, not a sociopath staring at his next disposable toy.

“Is she coming with us?” Derek asked, and how could I not smile at the thinly veiled disappointment in Derek’s voice?

Stiles, let out a yelp and jumped towards me, putting his body completely between Derek and me. When he realized that it was Derek a fraction of a second later, he relaxed and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. I pulled Stiles’ hand away from his neck and squeezed it softly, smiling to thank him for the moment of protection he had been willing to offer me. It was stupid; there was absolutely no way it would have succeeded if he wanted us dead, but the thought was a sweet one.

“Derek! God, don’t werewolves know how to use a freaking door? Dad’s not even here! You could have walked right in!” Stiles chastised as norepinephrine overtook epinephrine in his brain, turning his fear into anger, and Derek seemed to consider the words with a furrowed brow. Maybe werewolves didn’t have a concept of doors, being part animal. But my money was on the fact that he could make sure Stiles was safe more easily if he came straight through the window.

“There was a strange car outside.” Derek offered simply, and an accomplished smile curved my lips. Lydia, was there a person on this planet that you couldn’t figure out? Doubtful, of course.

“Well, I think it’s time that I go.” He said, grabbing my purse. “I told Jackson that I would help him drunk proof his house before the party. I think its about time that I do my inspection to make sure it was done right. See you boys in a little while.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

I hadn’t expected anyone to be at Stiles’. Worried that Jackson or one of his buddies had decided to pull some cruel joke on the awkward teen, I climbed into his window only to find him dancing with Lydia and looking like he was having an amazing time. I watched them dance, Lydia’s eyes on Stiles as though she were looking for flaws in the movement, searching for missteps that didn’t exist. Stiles swayed, moving with ebb and flow of the music that ran in spirals around him in a stream of stardust that orbited higher and higher until collapsing into the depths of his soul and filling the all-too-human boy until he would surely burst.

My attention was dragged away from Stiles by the fact that Lydia’s eyes were on him. She was seeking out errors, sharp eyes looking for fault lines along the figure of his heart, feeling for cracks in the contours of his soul. I could feel my eyes glow dully as I considered what to do with this intruder into my territory that dared to judge the fragile member of my pack.

Lydia noticed me first, her shock drawing Stiles back into focus. As he complained about not using the door, he crossed the room and plopped into his desk chair, shutting off the music that came from his laptop. I caught his scent as he passed, the smell breaking my focus from the fact that Lydia’s presence was still a mystery. Her scent had never lingered here before. Why come now?

His scent was the same – the smell of fresh rain in an open, green pasture dotted with just enough flowers to provide a faint, almost minty sweetness. It was all clear water, turned earth, and green grass covered by a thin veil of soap. But now, there was something else. A mixture of wood and dried leaves and hidden flowers. The smell of the forest on a bright, clear day.

The constant and turbulent haze of emotions that usually came off Stiles was muted with Lydia around, as though he pushed them back in order to make an impression. I wondered if that had something to do with what Stiles saw in her. Yes, she was beautiful and clearly not as stupid as she tried to make people believe, but Stiles saw more in her than that. He wasn’t so shallow that his list would end there. Did Stiles see the parallel between them? Both were intelligent and markedly different from the average high school student, but one tried to embrace the difference and ended up pushed aside while the other stifled the difference with paints and bright clothes and sex appeal and took charge of her surroundings. Perhaps he saw her beauty as her prison, preventing the outside from getting in and the inside from getting out. If he did, then he would know how lonely it must feel to be so isolated and at once so surrounded by supposed friends. I don’t think Stiles would allow himself to see loneliness without trying to remedy it.

And just like that, she was leaving. I waited in Stiles’ room as he walked her to her car nobly, where he gave her a hug and thanked her for everything before telling her to drive safe. She didn’t say anything, until her engine was started and Stiles was about to turn around.

“You just be sure to have a good time tonight. Take a few chances.” She offered before heading over to Jackson’s. There was a meaning to her words that I couldn’t decipher, but I knew that it had something to do with her insistence that we both be there. If this was going to be a blind date, I would hurt Stiles for dragging me into it without proper warning.

When he came back up, he looked uncomfortable. His fingers slid over his exposed collarbone like he could rub them out of sight. The ivory skin drawing my attention. I hadn’t noticed until now that he wasn’t dressed with the usual extra layers keeping as much as his body as possible shrouded in fabric as to not draw attention. Another piece of Lydia’s work, I was sure.

“So, you’re early and you’re kind of staring and it’s freaking me out a little, so…” He trailed off, his hands drawing my attention up to his face as they covered his eyes.

“I was patrolling before the party. The strange car.” I supplied, letting him fill in the blanks.

“Patrolling?” He asked, his fingers separating so that he could look at me without uncovering his face. “Is this a common thing?”

I gave a nod and his hands finally fell away from his face before he collapsed onto his bed, ignoring the pile of clothes and bags underneath him. “So, what, you just swing by our houses every few days to make sure we’re not going to be eaten or something?”

“Every night.” I answered, and he picked his head up to again stare at me with curiosity.

“Every night? Are we really in that much danger now?” Stiles asked, sounding exhausted suddenly.

“I have to keep you two safe. You and Scott are safe unless they get rid of me first.” I replied, sitting in the desk chair. In a mixture of curiosity and an attempt to distract him from worrying about his safety, I opened his computer and was met with something called Party Rock Anthem. I had no qualms with silencing the song, but Stiles gave a whine.

“Derek! That’s my computer, my music! That’s personal stuff! I think I’ve been criticized enough today, alright?” He complained, letting out a huff of air.

To Stiles’ disappointment, I had already reordered the songs by the number of plays and the bands that I recognized were good. Of Monsters and Men, Bombay Bicycle Club, Florence and the Machine, the list went on, and it was entirely to close to Laura’s favorites. I closed the computer, not wanting to dwell on my sister, and pushed myself to my feet.

He must have seen the look on my face because he looked crushed and covered his face again. “Is my taste in music really _that_ bad?” He groaned, curling away from me as I settled on the edge of the bed.

“You listen to Lady Gaga?” I probed, seeking a sarcastic tone. His groan signaled that I missed the mark and my browed furrowed in frustration with myself. I gripped his shoulder, applying a pressure that made him roll onto his back.

He pouted at me and I shook my head. “Its not bad.” I corrected, my fingers instinctively finding his collarbone. The touch was enough to make Stiles’ forehead relax and he opened his eyes, looking at me like he wanted to stay and run away at the same time.

“So… you like my taste in music?” He asked tentatively and I tensed my jaw and stood up, dipping my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket.

“Isn’t it about time for us to leave?” I asked impatiently, looking out the window to where the stars glinted against the dark night sky.

Stiles jumped up, his smile renewed as though I paid him a huge compliment. The roll of my eyes as he spoke wasn’t even enough to faze him. “You do!” He said excitedly, his eyes bright as he looked up at me.

I growled and pulled my keys out of my pocket, jingling them in front of him and hoping it would be enough to distract him. “Time. To go.” I repeated slowly.

He rolled his eyes at me and laughed, punching me on the shoulder as he passed by on his way out of the room. I had to stop and question why I was doing this. Being around Stiles could be tiring enough. The kid was like a rollercoaster with all of his ups and downs and not taking his Adderall had only made it worse. I could only dread what being surrounded by his peers would be like.

I had no choice now. I made it this far. All that was left was to see the night through Maybe Stiles would hate the party and we could leave early. Maybe he’d have fun and it wouldn’t make a difference if I left.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

I know that I had money down on this crap, but did Lydia really have to invite them to my party? Couldn’t we have just locked them in a room together? Hale would have killed Stiles or fucked him. Either way, it would probably make the kid a lot more bearable than he was.

Just as everyone was starting to get comfortable and finish the first few drinks, they show up. Of course, Hale wouldn’t know any better than to come to a party looking like the freakish, inbred murderer that he secretly was. Lying bastard had Stiles on his side so the town’s useless rent-a-cop squad wouldn’t do anything to get rid of him without the sheriff’s okay even though wanted pictures with poorly drawn pictures of his face were plastered all over town for weeks. Figures that our prestigious police force couldn’t even afford a freaking camera to take a proper mugshot.

So, there they were, Stiles walking in with false confidence and attempting to be as cool as possible. If only he realized how ridiculous he looked, he would just walk like he normally did and not attempt – what was that anyway? Was he trying to be a beached whale with swagger? A penguin trying to strut? God, Stilinski, stop trying. You’re going to blow the atmosphere of my party.

Nevermind. Atmosphere ruined. Hale brought the feel of the room from elation to fear with one sweep of his vicious glare. Thanks. Thank you, Derek Hale. Thank you, Lydia Martin for inviting them. Where was she anyway? She needed to be here so that she could fix this mess. Now. If she couldn’t comprehend that we weren’t a couple any more, then she should at least be around to clean up after herself.

Hale’s glare locked on me like he was giving me some threat. Swallowing the little ball of fear in my chest that was starting to expand, I grabbed a bottle of beer and walked up to the werewolf, shoving it into his chest. “Have a drink. Maybe it’ll get that look of constipation off your face.” I spat at him, only to back away as anger exploded into his eyes and he stared at me like he was contemplating which part to rip off first.

Stiles grinned at the fear that crossed my face and patted my shoulder. My glare didn’t have any effect on him with Derek so close, watching my every move like he would happily carry out his desire to kill me if he thought I was going to hurt Stiles. Could they be any more transparent?

“Relax, Jackson. It’s a party. Have a drink or something. You look like you’re about to piss yourself.” Stiles said with a laugh, going deeper into my house with Derek pulled after like he was caught in the kid’s gravity.

That still didn’t stop Derek from pausing momentarily in front of me to push the beer back into my hands. “Alcohol doesn’t work on us.” He said in a low voice, a malicious, threatening smirk on his lips. “But Stiles is right. Maybe you should have a drink. A little Dutch courage might stop you from having an accident.”

My heart jumped at the way his teeth flashed when he said accident, like he was hoping for the chance to hunt me down. He seemed satisfied with my fear before Stilinski reappeared and looked between us.

“Uh. Derek? Come on. I found Scott and Allison and Lydia outside. Stop making that face. You’re going to scare everyone away.” Stiles said, gesturing in wide, sweeping motions for Derek to follow like he was trying to get an unruly dog to listen to him.

Derek threw a glare back in my direction before he allowed himself to be ushered away by the annoying teenager.

My jaw was tense. Hell, every muscle in my body was tense. Who did that bastard think he was? I was the heir to the Whittemore estate. The boy that everyone loved so much that when I was left behind, I was adopted almost immediately. I was the star of the lacrosse team that was rivaled only by an idiot lucky enough to get bitten by a werewolf and get superhuman powers. I was the person in school that everyone wanted to be, the person that everyone fought to be near just so they could bask in the glory that was my life. Who did he think he was to deny me the promise to become anything that I wanted, to deny me the right not to feel weak and alone? How was it that even a spastic, wimpy little smartass like Stiles could somehow be preferable to an A student from a rich home with obviously superior athletic skills and plenty of friends?

I opened the beer and downed it quickly, going to slip something a little stronger from the liquor cabinet.

After half a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, I’d crossed the border from having a good time to finding it easier to swim lethargically in the viscous fluids of my mind than to be hosting a party. At some point, Danny showed up with his date and worriedly tried to take the bottle of gin away from me. If it was an hour ago or five minutes ago, I couldn’t say, but I yank the bottle out of his hand and chewed him out about being an awful friend for not being able to stop this from happening to me and never introducing anyone to the people he dated, including me even though I was his best friend. I yelled at him about how while he was off screwing his latest boy toy, I was left all alone to deal with the fact that he was supporting Scott stealing my place on the lacrosse team and the fact that Lydia flaunted making out with him in my face to try to push me into working harder despite my injured shoulder.

Danny gave me an apologetic look as I downed another quarter of the bottle and tossed it into the floor before storming out of the room. I guess Danny stayed behind to clean up because I never saw the bottle again and there was no mess for me to clean. I wandered the house before I wound up outside. They were all gathered around the pool despite the chill in the air. The lights in the swimming pool were on, and I had put up some colored lights around the edges of the fenced-in yard to offer some ambient light to the guests at Lydia’s insistence.

It all swirled slightly as I determinedly stomped my way towards Scott McCall and Derek Hale to give them a piece of my mind. To one for stealing my life from under my feet and proving to me how much I was really missing. To the other for offering me a way to be a part of something bigger, to be something better, only to laugh in my face as he refused to give that which he had promised.

Stilinski, the little bitch of the group was making a drink run, maybe a trash run, I wasn’t sure and didn’t really care which, when he got in my way.

“Yo, Jackson, you don’t look so good. You really shouldn’t drink so much. Its not good for you, man. Pretty can only get you so far, y’know? You might need those brain cells eventually.” He was joking. Laughing at me for having a few drinks, which I might add is what he suggested in the first place. “Jackson? Dude, chill. It was a joke. Haha. Don’t get all worked up about it. Jeez.”

I was sick of his voice. We were standing right next to the pool. Maybe the frigid water, with its paper-thin layer of ice would finally be able to shut him up. Without saying anything, I lashed out and hit him in the stomach, just hard enough to make him lose his breath and his balance so that he toppled over and hit the water with a splash.

Derek was in my face as soon as I turned away from the shadow of his body struggling in cold water to make his limbs pull him to the surface. He growled menacingly at me and I just smiled up at him. “You don’t it when someone messes with your little bitch? Maybe you should keep your promises. Did you promise your uncle you’d be loyal to him before you slaughtered him? Hm? What about your sister? You think you’re so much better than me.”

It was all I managed to get out before the world suddenly started spinning at twelve times its normal rate. My hands found purchase on the ground, the only thing that seemed stable as stars streaked across my vision pain finally began leaking through my skull. Scott helped me up while Allison talked Derek into getting Stiles out of the pool and I watched as Derek fished Stiles from the pool, needing only one hand to pull the shivering boy out of the water. Waterproofed by his leather jacket, Derek supported Stiles, the clothes that Lydia picked out for him clinging tightly to his body even as it quaked violently against the cold, as Lydia guided them inside.

She appeared too fast, and I blinked hard a few times to make sure that her blurred image wasn’t someone else entirely. Nope. It was Lydia. The condescension in her velvety yet acidic voice was proof enough. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re going to ruin everything! Are you trying to make Stiles die of hypothermia? If I spend all that money on some decent clothes just for you to go and kill Stiles, I’ll have you castrated. I will. Just think I won’t. Ugh. You smell like pure alcohol. How much did you drink tonight?”

Then I started zoning out. The alcohol and the pain of the blow Derek had had given me were making it hard to stay awake. Lydia wasn’t saying anything interesting anyway.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in my life. The water was so shockingly freezing that my body didn’t even want to move to get me out, which was really bad considering that Jackson’s hit knocked the breath out of me too.

But then Derek’s hand dipped into the water and tugged me out of it like I was just a stray bottle that had fallen in. Speaking of, all the cups that I hand in my hands were scattered across the glowing water now. A tremor ran through my body and leaned into the warmth that Derek offered. I went to speak, but I couldn’t make my teeth stop chattering long enough to get a word out so I eventually gave up. Lydia led us into a bathroom before leaving and closing the door behind her. I was about to protest and make a comment about how I could die of hypothermia and how I would need to cuddle with her for warmth, but, yeah, damn chattering teeth and their cockblocking superpowers.

My body drank the warmth from Derek’s hands as they set me on the counter next to the sink and grabbed the fabric of my shirt and peeled it off of my body roughly. “G-g-g-g-g-gen-t-t-t-le.” I managed to get out.

Derek glared at me briefly as I did my best to cover myself in front of the man that was just unfairly masculine. I was relieved and upset as he turned away from me. It lessened the mental pain of that stare judging me and comparing my scrawny body to his, but at the same time, it meant that his warmth wasn’t an option and I was still shaking hard. Was it normal for nipples to be so cold and so hard that they hurt? Oh God, I was going to die.

But then Derek was back with a towel in his hands. He wiped away the water while rubbing at my skin, offering the warmth of sweet, sweet friction. If my self-consciousness got in the way and I tried to cover my body while he was drying me off, he’d swat my hand away and give me a patient, almost parental growl to me out of the way so that at least half of me would stand a chance at surviving my own personal frozen apocalypse. That fast, my torso was dry. No where near warm, but at least dry. Oh, there was some warmth. And it felt nice. His jacket was wrapped around me and he was even nice enough to zip it up so that I would have to feel miserably with my quaky hands or feel like the most awkward and feeble person in the universe by being exposed in front of the strongest and most confident man I’d ever seen.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!” I yelled, trying to swat Derek’s hands away from where they were pulling my belt free of the loops and working to take my pants off completely. The only problem with trying to swat Derek’s hands away was the fact that there was wonderful, werewolf warmth-filled leather in the way. My arms were wrapped around myself when Derek zipped up the jacket. It was all part of his master plan. He trapped my arms in his jacket so that he could emasculate me by pulling off my pants and proving that he was superior in pretty much every way, and it was a perfect chance while the icy, wet fabric clung to my thighs and (I’m just guess here because, yeah, COLD) made what I would normally be comfortable saying was at least average into something that probably pitifully small.

“Stiles. Stay still. I’m trying to get you warm.” Derek growled at me, and I knew that his growl was very serious.

“L-like it wasn’t b-bad enough that the man with a p-perfect body is having to do this in the first place? I’m not getting naked in front of you, D-derek. And you’re not un-d-dressing me.” I insisted, glad that it was finally getting a little easier to speak.

Derek growled at me again and pulled off my pants anyway before he started drying my legs off like he did my torso. Okay, it felt nice. Derek was doting over me like a worried mother right now and I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had done for me. Well, I could, if I didn’t mind making myself cry, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not when I already felt weak in front of Derek. Crying was not going to help that. And Derek was obviously not a bad-looking guy or I would never have been so self-conscious around him and his hands were on my thighs and I was a teenager. Thank God for that ice bath I just unwilling took or this would become an unbearably awkward situation really fast.

What’s that Derek? Oh, that? Don’t worry about it. Its not because an attractive guy that’s the living embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome is hovering over me, saving me from hypothermia and touching nearly every part of my in the process or anything.

Just thinking about it made me want to burrow underground for five years. But there was Derek again, his strong hands pulling from where I had been perched on the counter. I stood there, staring at him in confusion as he unzipped the jacket. My whine of protest quickly turned into a yelp of surprise that again shifted into a happy groan.

When Derek finished unzipping the jacket, suddenly he was there. Not there like he’d been so far, but _there._ His warm body was pressed against mine. He had me in a firm hug, his body pressed against mine for warmth. His hands wandered my back, exploring the pale skin that I was glad he couldn’t see and rubbing warmth into me from my shoulders all the way down to the base of my spine. My arms curled around him and the leather jacket slid off my shoulder, but it didn’t make a difference. Werewolf-grade heat was the best heat when you were cold. It sank all the way to your bones and kicked the cold right out. If it weren’t for the fact that I had very sensitive parts still captured in dripping boxer-briefs, it would have been perfect. Thank God for Lydia’s complete wardrobe idea because I would have felt embarrassed in the gray boxers with black dogs dotted all over them that I had been wearing before she made me change.

When I felt warmer, Derek pulled away from me and wrapped the towel around my waist. “Take them off.” He ordered, and I squeaked in protest.

“No! No way!” I argued, absolutely not wanting to be naked in Jackson’s house trapped in a bathroom with Derek Hale and nothing but a flimsy towel covering me.

“Stiles. I’m going to get your clothes dried. There’s no sense in it if you’re going to keep your wet underwear on.” He replied calmly, his voice commanding me to follow his order.

“I’m not getting naked where I have nothing to wear but a freaking towel unless it’s in the safety of my own bedroom!” I shot back, not willing to give in to Derek’s order so easily.

“You have my jacket.” He replied, as though that simple fact undermined my entire argument.

“No!” I stood my ground bravely, my arms still hugging my chest tightly.

“Stiles. Take them off. Now. Or I’m going to do it for you. And that means getting thrown out of the bathroom into the house full of people.” He threatened, and I whined at my defeat as I carefully shimmied out of my underwear without losing the towel. I crouched down, one hand always on the knot holding the towel together and shrugged the jacket onto one arm before grabbing the wet underwear and handing them to Derek.

He took them and left with my wet clothes, leaving me in the bathroom by myself with nothing but a damp towel and a toasty leather jacket. I sat on the toilet while I waited what seemed like an eternity. I was so cold that I couldn’t remember what bathroom I’d been taken into, but it was only a half-bath so I was guessing that it wasn’t a bathroom I could walk out of without being surrounded by people. Was someone guarding the door to make sure that no one came in and found me like this or had I just been relatively lucky so far?

The door opened to Derek a little while later, carrying a cup of hot chocolate with a bit of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Just the way I liked it since I was a kid.

“Did you make this?” I asked curiously, not entirely sure what to expect from Derek’s cooking abilities after the French toast Christmas morning.

He shook his head, his brow furrowed a little. “Allison made it. Scott told her how you liked it.”

It made sense, and I couldn’t help but grin as I sipped the warm liquid. So Scott still cared enough to remember something little like how I like my hot chocolate? Maybe he wasn’t such a massive jerk after all.

“Want anything else?” Derek asked when I pulled the mug away from my lips and let out a happy, warm sigh at the warmth that had by now completely spread through my body from the ouside in thanks to Derek and the inside out thanks to Scott and Allison.

“Just my clothes.” I insisted again. Derek rolled his eyes at me and snatched the empty mug out of my hand.

“I’ll bring them when they’re ready.” He grumbled, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Werewolves were so moody. Still, it made me realize that I hadn’t thanked him for any of it or even asked him to thank Scott and Allison for making the hot chocolate for me.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

I don’t know why he made me angry. I guess it was because he was acting strange. He leaned into my every touch while he tried to refuse my help. He curled around me as I offered my body heat yet he argued with me as I tried to get him out of the clothes that were keeping him cold in the first place. What exactly did he expect me to do? Take pictures and send them to everyone he’s ever met? Laugh at him and kick him out of the pack for being small and fragile? All of it was just stupid. Stiles had proven himself to be more useful than Scott, who had the benefit of being a werewolf.

“Derek?” Allison pulled me out of my thoughts. She smiled at me and put her hand on my forearm. “You okay? You look mad. Stiles is fine, right? It’s okay to relax then.”

I stared at her, my brows knitting together as she spoke. Maybe she was right. Stiles was stressed, cold, and probably not thinking clearly. Still didn’t seem to be much of an excuse. Stiles’ mouth was proof enough that the was constantly thinking.

“Seriously. He’s fine. Stop worrying.” Worrying? I wasn’t worrying about him. I knew he’d be fine. I’d personally made sure of it. What was she talking about?

“Worrying will give you wrinkles, Derek. We wouldn’t want you looking like a Shar-Pei, now would we?” Lydia joined in, pushing a neatly folded bundle of warm clothes into my hands.

I fought back the urge to reply and ignored their comments in favor of taking Stiles his clothes before they cooled. When I went back into the bathroom, Stiles was sitting quietly on the toilet looking almost guilty. The way his brow wrinkled told me that he was lost in thought. His eyes turned to me curiously I walked towards him before he caught sight of the clothes in my hand. He got up quietly and slid out of my jacket to quickly tug his shirt onto his slender body.

He bit his lip when he looked at me and I could tell that he wanted to ask me to leave or at least turn around so I leaned against the counter and turned my head towards the door while he pulled on the rest of his clothes. He pushed the jacket towards me when he was dressed and I simply shook my head.

“You need to stay warm. Put it back on.” I ordered, pushing his hand away before leaving the bathroom.

Stiles followed behind me as he shrugged the jacket on. Lydia was waiting outside with her hands on her hips, her cherry red lips curved in a grin. “I’m glad you’re okay. Looks like Derek took good care of you, though.” She said with a raised eyebrow, sliding a hand over the leather.

Stiles blushed a little and grinned. “Yeah. He did. All of you did. Thanks. So where’s Jackson? I think he deserves another black eye.”

Lydia grinned knowing and looked over at Derek. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Let’s just say a certain older man was sure to give him a nasty lump on his head for pushing you in.” She said knowingly, patting Stiles’ shoulder after fixing the jacket on his body.

He looked at me thankfully and smiled before he looked back to Lydia. “Well. Thanks, still. Where are Scott and Allison?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Oh, I think they’re in the living room.  Who knows?”

Stiles stopped in front of me and quickly leaned in to give me a hug. I stiffened, but I knew this hug. It was the same one he gave his father when they would hug, a short-lived embrace that said everything that was too uncomfortable to say out loud.

He let go and I followed after Stiles. There was no one in the living room except for an upset-looking Danny being consoled by a boy with an earring and Scott and Allison eagerly trying to eat each other’s faces.

The music outside, I assumed, had become the hot spot. Ironic after what happened to Stiles there. Stiles did his best to get their attention, but all that he did was temporarily draw the attention of Danny and his date. Sties let out a frustrated noise and looked at me. He got a mischievous little grin on his face and I knew that he got an idea that I was probably going to hate. If he couldn’t get Scott’s attention the easy way then he was going to figure out something much more painful to everyone.

He jumped me, rubbing his cheek against mine and making exaggerated kissing noises that not even a five year old could possibly believe were real. Yet, inexplicably, he still looked disappointed when the pitiful excuse for an idea let him down, leaving him with nothing but a red cheek where my stubble rubbed too harshly against his sensitive skin.

I almost pushed him away as he went in to give it one last-ditch effort, but his lips legitimately touched mine. This was among the stupidest idea that Stiles ever had. What did he think he was achieving? My hands gripped his hips and I nearly threw him into Scott and Allison to get him off, but my hands wouldn’t obey. Instead of pushing the teenager away like I was ordering them, they pulled him closer. The sounds that Stiles was making began to sound more and more realistic and his hands got a hold of my shoulders that was so tight it almost hurt me.

A strange sensation rolling over my tongue made me realize that my tongue had slipped into Stiles’ mouth. It was wrong on so many levels, but all the strength of my will wasn’t strong enough to make me pull back now. The residues of the fire, sealed behind the walls that I had spent nearly a decade perfecting, were shifting. They could sense the weakness that this boy had made in them with his constant badgering, his persistence presence chipping away at the walls until a tiny hole was enough to let in even a small gasp of air. Now, the fire was rekindled, soaking in the fresh oxygen until it became a backdraft that exploded outwards through the weakness Stiles had caused and was desperately trying to draw every bit of oxygen from Stiles’ lungs to replenish itself even if we were both burned in the process.

I kissed him until his lungs were begging for air and my mouth was sore from the force of Stiles’ amateurish kiss. As our lips parted, his head leaned down to avoid my eyes and mine tilted back to avoid his until we were once again touching.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, so it was a dumb idea. The dumbest. Possibly worse than the worst idea that even Scott’s ever thrown out there (sorry, buddy). But I was irritated and still suffering from the aftermath of hypothermia and I had to do something to make sure that they didn’t strangle each other with their tongues.

I did try faking it once, just pouncing Derek and trying to be stupid and exaggerated in the hope that I wouldn’t have to stand there and watch them make out until they decided they could give Stiles a few minutes. That didn’t work, and I’m pretty sure it just made Derek’s urge to kill me a little stronger, but it was worth a shot.

The second time, well, I’ll just start by saying it was a total accident. Even I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to actually try to kiss Derek Hale, alpha werewolf extraordinaire and world-renowned master of the smolder. But the response was well worth the risk. It was almost awkwardly and literally a dream come true. He gripped my hips, pulled me closer and actually – I couldn’t even make this up – kissed me. He freaking opened his mouth and kissed me. A real open-mouthed ‘I’m going to do this until your lips fall off’ kiss. It was amazing, and I’m pretty with the way Derek was handling everything that he thought so too.

I don’t know why he stopped. Maybe he realized that I was going to pass out if I didn’t get a breath soon. It seemed so natural when my forehead landed against his chin, his stubble scratching the skin and I knew it would be red when I pulled back, but it didn’t matter. Dad wouldn’t be around until tomorrow and it would probably be gone tomorrow.

I was perfectly happy basking in Derek’s warmth while I caught my breath until Allison was laughing. Oh, yeah. Scott and Allison were there too. I’d completely forgotten that they were the entire reason that this even happened. I’d have to thank them sometime for being attached at the mouth so often. And it was no wonder that they wanted to be around each other so much. If I could get that from Derek on a regular basis, maybe get a smile on occasion, I would probably find myself in the same situation. It was awesome.

I looked over at Allison and her hand was covering a huge smile as she laughed at us. I wondered briefly my pants had fallen off during the kiss or something, but there were still on my waist when I checked. Scott and Danny were both staring wide-eyed in our direction, both their faces holding similar expressions of shocked disbelief. I started to step away from Derek, my hands slipping away from his shoulders. Wow, he was tense. His jaw was tense and he wouldn’t meet my eyes and I wondered if I did something wrong.

My ego deflated as I looked at him and I swallowed hard. I’d never seen Derek try to avoid anything short of a crazy Hunter with a thirst for blood and an arsenal of poison bullets, but there he was, trying not to look at the person he just made out with. It was a mistake. He thought that it was a mistake. He was so alone that he probably just couldn’t help himself. How long could a person be starved of affection before even I become a viable option? I rubbed the back of my neck and looked over at Scott and Allison again. They were too busy looking at the scene that unfolded to even notice what I’d seen.

I pushed it aside for now. I could dwell on Derek and how pitiful it was for me to even think I had a chance there. He was like the male Lydia. Just as awesome and just as lonely and just as unobtainable for someone like me. I walked and sat down with Scott and Allison, wedging myself in between them with a smile. “Its about time.” I said, wrapping an arm around both of them.

“So, now that I had to pull out the big guns to get your attention, thank you for the hot chocolate.” I said, grinning as I looked between them. Scott was giving me a scared look, like Derek had been drawing something horrible on my face while kissing me and he was trying to find a way to tell me without hurting my feelings or getting the crap beaten out of him by the older man. “Chin up, man. Here I was starting to think you didn’t love me any more and then you remember exactly how I like my cocoa.”

Scott face changed and he gave me a light shove. “Just because I’m spending time with Allison doesn’t mean that I’m going to forget about you.”

“So.” Allison said, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me closer to her. “How was the kiss?” She asked eagerly and Scott got to his feet, muttering something about needing a drink. Allison laughed and shook her head at Scott. “Don’t worry about him. Focus on Derek.” She suggested, resting her chin on my shoulder.

“Umm… are we talking about the same Derek that just drove away?” Danny asked from the window, giving me a look of pity. I jumped up and spun around to face him, my hands sliding through my hair.

“But he was my ride!” I exclaimed with a groan.

“And you just made out with him.” Danny’s date added, getting a glare from my tan-skinned teammate. “What? It’s not my fault that he kissed the guy and he ran.”

Danny sighed and shook his head at his date disapprovingly before he turned back to me. “Want me to give you a ride?”


End file.
